


Maybe Now Is Enough

by mc_writer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Emotional Sex, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hiatus, Love, M/M, OT4, Secrets, Sex, except where it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mc_writer/pseuds/mc_writer
Summary: Harry and Liam struggle to maintain their relationship during the hiatus. The distance and time apart has taken its toll and Harry isn't exactly sure where they stand these days. Especially not since Liam is apparently going to be a father soon.Harry misses him.Watching the Brits alone at home, Harry is surprised to see Liam there and decides now is as good a time as any to tell him just that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, it takes a village to publish a fic. 
> 
> Or maybe just that one friend who thinks you can do the thing you're sure you can't and who has more confidence in you than you do in yourself. So, this would never happened without the encouragement and support of @[gettingaphdinlarry](http://gettingaphdinlarry.tumblr.com/) who told me that I could, in fact, write smut. She was also willing to read Lirry. Having you beta this was scary in the very best way. And it was also the most fun. Thank you so much. 
> 
> I also needed the help of @[hevab](http://hevab.tumblr.com/) who kindly Britpicked this for me. Thank you for taking the time on this little Lirry fic.
> 
> I’d also like to give a shout out to @[louandhazaf](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/) for being excited about Lirry fic.
> 
> If you take a chance on this, I hope you enjoy it. If you want, come and chat on [tumblr](http://mcqdj.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Also, I’ve tagged this as canon compliant, because of the setting, context and some of the details. I just want to say that it’s canon, except where it’s not. The relationship in this story is out of my own head and I do not claim any of it as true.

The day had not started well and rather than getting better, as Harry had hoped it would, it had just gone straight to hell.

At least, that’s how Harry felt.

It should have been glorious.

It was supposed to be a reunion of sorts with the lads, a thank you and a shout out to the fans, who had never let them down. Harry had been excited. So far, the hiatus had been full of great opportunities for all of them. _Dunkirk_ was an incredible experience and one he could never have had with the band’s schedule. And the boys. Harry was over the moon that they got to work on their own projects. He always knew Niall would be the folksy, guitar-strumming, singer-songwriter. But, he was positively gobsmacked by Louis’ foray into EDM. Liam went the R&B route, of course. That was no surprise.

To be honest, Harry wasn’t at all sure about the gold chains. But, it was Liam and Harry was nothing if not supportive.

But Harry missed them. He missed the boys and missed them being together— _OT4_ , as the fans called them. He hadn’t been prepared for how lonely things were sometimes. When he did the _Another Man_ shoot, he’d had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder and making silly puns—because, well, the lads weren’t there to groan about his terrible jokes and the people who were there just wouldn’t get it, would they?

So, yes. Harry had been looking forward to the Brits.

But, then the shit hit the proverbial fan, contracts were waved around, legal gobbledygook was spouted and basically, the Brits reunion was off. It was not to be.

“This is bollocks,” Niall sputtered on the phone. “Complete and utter bollocks.”

“It is,” Harry agreed, his voice glum.

“I can’t believe we’ve been stopped from going to the Brits. This is crazy. It makes no fecking sense,” Niall said, his accent thicker than Harry remembered it.

“Yeah. I thought we were in the clear. I guess I was wrong.”

They chatted a while longer to hammer out a schedule for a round of golf and when the call ended, Harry found a message from Louis.

_Getting together tonight would have been siiiick. Can’t wait til all the contract shit is sorted. Will let Dan, Lottie and Tommy have a night out. Am off to Donny to watch the kiddies. See you soon mate._

Harry smiled. It would do Louis a world of good to stay at home with the twins. The thought that Louis would be able to spend a night at home, surrounded by family made Harry think that there might actually have been a good side to the whole Brits debacle.

He still couldn’t quite understand it. They were nominated. Would it be such a disaster if they all appeared together? Harry figured maybe Simon had put his foot down, not wanting the boys to make a show of force. If they had gone to the Brits together it would have been clear as crystal that despite all the feuding boyband narratives and the “they will never get back together” claims, they were, still, what they had always been.

Friends.

No. _Brothers_. Forged under klieg lights and the glare of paparazzi flash, bound by music, closer than blood.

The hiatus was what it was: a hiatus.

Niall was sceptical in the beginning, but Harry had fought for it. They needed time to figure out who they were without each other and the freedom to explore things that captured their interests and passions. To Harry’s surprise, Liam agreed.

Harry paused in the middle of puttering around the kitchen.

Liam.

The only one of the three who had not sent him a message that day.

And likely the reason Harry felt so off.

He missed Liam. Terribly.

One night, before the hiatus began, he had asked Liam, in the cool dark of a hotel room, whether they would still make time to see each other.

“You think you’ll make it out to the set? Visit me?” Harry heard the pleading in his voice and was grateful that Liam couldn’t see his face in the darkness.

“Won’t it be weird? People might talk. Might get around that you actually like us.” Harry knew it was meant to be a joke, but there but there was really nothing funny about it.

Harry shifted to move away, painfully aware that he might have overstayed his welcome in Liam’s bed, maybe even in Liam’s life.

“No, Harry...don’t leave.” Liam laced his fingers in Harry’s and drew them up to his mouth. He pressed his lips against Harry’s knuckles, then laid both their hands on his chest. He took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. “I just...I don’t want this to turn into something people talk about, I don’t want paparazzi following us everywhere, looking for a story.”

The bitterness in Liam’s voice made Harry ache. He moved closer and nudged Liam’s shoulder with his cheek. “They already do. It’s the price we pay. Popstars and all that.” Harry tried to keep his voice light but it sounded hollow, even to him.

“It’s not. It shouldn’t be. This is our lives. It’s not some game. Or a story for people to sell in the tabloids.” Liam propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Harry, his eyes soft. Liam ducked his head down to kiss him, a chaste press of the lips, before his tongue coaxed Harry’s mouth open.

Harry understood, of course. But, part of him, the reckless, wild, Stage Harry Styles part, wanted nothing more than to parade Liam in front of the entire world and say, “Mine, mine, mine.”

Liam brushed Harry’s hair off his forehead and a hint of a smile played on his lips. “I don’t want them to know that I shampoo your hair when you’re in the bath and help you put it in that towel turban.”

“Excuse me. I don’t need help putting my hair in a towel turban,” Harry said, with mock offense.

Liam shook his head and continued combing his fingers through Harry’s hair. He chuckled softly. “Your hair really is quite ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

Harry blinked as Liam’s lips traced a hot trail down his neck and chest. When Liam paused at his belly, Harry gazed at him, transfixed by the way he looked as he traced Harry’s laurel tattoos with his tongue. By the time Liam’s mouth was around Harry’s cock, Harry’s eyes were squeezed shut, Liam’s name on his lips, and all thoughts about what they were, what they would do, what would happen to them, were gone.

They had tried to make it work for a while. Liam had, in fact, made it to the _Dunkirk_ set, once. And Harry had visited him in L.A. when Liam began working on his solo project in earnest. But then they both got busier and things got complicated.

They had managed phone calls, at least for a while. It wasn’t much, but it was enough sometimes to just hear Liam’s voice over the wire, to hear the excitement in his voice about the material he was working on. Sometimes, Liam would call him up in the middle of the night, because he never did quite remember about time differences. Harry would lie in bed, phone pressed to his ear and listen to Liam speak. Those conversations would call to mind other times when Liam would wake him up in bed, with a hot whisper in his ear, his broad chest pressed against Harry’s back.

Needless to say, Harry didn’t fall back asleep quickly after those midnight calls.

Harry couldn’t pinpoint when things had started going south. Yes, there had been a couple of weeks when they hadn’t been able to talk. Harry would be in meetings or in the studio himself, and get to his phone to see missed calls from Liam, but he never had time to call him back. And when he did, his calls would go straight to voicemail.

Harry would try to leave a message, but could never seem to find the words that would say: _I’m sorry I missed your call, this is harder than I thought but I love you and we’ll make it work._ It just wasn’t the kind of message you left on voicemail.

So he didn’t.

When the tabloids started printing stories about Liam’s impending fatherhood—news that made Harry’s stomach turn—he had tried to ask Liam about it. But, Liam’s voice got a weird, hard edge to it, a sound Harry didn’t recognise.

“Stupid contract shit,” was all he would say, so Harry let it go.

And then, Jay.

Even now, Harry would remember her, at the oddest moments really, and feel heartsick all over again.

All of them—Niall, Liam, Harry—had cleared their schedules to be there for Louis. It was the only thing they could do.

It wasn’t a happy occasion, but Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see Liam. When Liam entered the green room, Harry stood and took a few steps towards him, a smile on his face. But, Liam quickly brushed past him. He went straight to Louis, who practically disappeared into Liam’s embrace. The room went quiet then, nothing but muffled sobs and whispers of _“I’m sorry,” “It fucking hurts, Liam,” “I know,”_ and Harry wished he could disappear because there just wasn’t enough space in the room to hold their grief.

Harry knew this wasn’t their time. Liam wasn’t there for him. It was selfish to want more. But it hurt nonetheless.

As the boys crowded into the wings to watch Louis’ performance, Harry lagged behind, uncertain of himself. To his surprise, and relief, Liam turned slightly, reached for his hand and pulled him into a brief embrace. Harry wanted to say he missed him, but Liam had already released him. Liam tilted his head towards the wings. “Come on. Louis needs us.”

Harry let Liam lead him to the little space from where they could watch Louis’ performance. Louis was amazing, as Harry knew he would be. From time to time, Harry looked away from the stage to look down at his fingers, intertwined with Liam’s, grateful for the contact. When it was over, Liam let go of his hand and Harry was swept up in a five-man embrace—because Steve was family too, now. Harry realised his eyes were wet, but he couldn’t tell exactly why he was crying.

Harry had gone straight home after the show, too tired and emotional for anything else. He knew Liam had gone out with Louis, to some club to blow off steam. Harry was glad that Liam could be there for Louis like that. God knows, Louis needed it.

But later, much later that night, Harry was roused from sleep by the relentless buzzing of his phone.

“Liam?” Harry croaked. “Wha…”

“Open the door, Harry, open the door…”

Harry struggled out of bed, half-awake and clumsy. "Open the door? Liam?"

Harry undid the locks on the door and opened it, only to have Liam collapse into his arms. Paddy stood in the hallway, an apologetic look on his face.

“’M sorry, Harry, he said he didn’t want to go home.” Paddy rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Paddy. I’ve got him.”

Harry shoved the door shut and stumbled a little under Liam’s weight.

“I missed you, there was no time backstage and you left right away…why’d you leave, Haz...” Liam slurred.

“I was tired, Liam. And I didn’t want to go to a club.”

“Why not? We would have danced. Like this…” Liam grasped Harry’s hips and began to grind against him. His hand traced up Harry’s body and knotted into his hair.

Harry’s breath hitched. Liam always knew exactly what to do.

Liam kissed Harry, hot and wet. Harry flinched at the taste of whiskey on Liam’s tongue.

“Come on, Harry,” Liam murmured. “Don’t you want me?”

“I always do, Li. Always.”

Harry stumbled a little under Liam’s weight.

“So take me.”

In the half-light of Harry’s living room, Liam looked younger than Harry remembered and a part of him wished they could have this, each other, without the complications of celebrity. He held his breath for a split second, before he caught Liam’s lips with his and kissed him the way he wanted to backstage.

“Missed you,” Harry whispered between kisses.

“Missed you too.”

Liam’s hand slipped easily down the front of Harry’s joggers and Harry gasped when Liam gripped his cock. Harry fumbled with the button on Liam’s jeans.

“Oh,” Harry went still.

Liam was soft in his hand. Not even half-hard. Just. Soft.

“Fuck.” Liam said, his voice sounding lost and broken.

“It’s okay, Liam, we don’t have to."

“No, no, no,” Liam babbled, his voice desperate. “I can still.” He was down on his knees now, tugging at Harry’s pants.

Harry pulled Liam’s hands off and joined him on the floor, arms tight around him. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.” Then Liam began to cry and his hands clutched desperately at Harry’s shoulders.

“Why does it hurt so much, Harry,” Liam choked out. “Louis...oh god...poor Louis…”

Harry cradled Liam, in tears himself. “We’ll be here for him. Always, you know that.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be so hard.”

“What?”

“Doing this alone…” Liam’s voice trailed off into a sob.

Harry was silent, shaken. Of all of them, he would have guessed Liam was the best prepared to go it alone. But it would be just like Liam Payne to hide the fact that he was lonely and tired, that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t quite know what he was doing. Harry knew there was no way he could get Liam’s dead weight to the bedroom, so he simply lay down on the floor and held Liam close, as if his arms were enough to keep the hurt away.

The next morning, Harry put Liam in a hot shower. He turned to leave but Liam pulled on his hand. “Don’t leave me.”

It was rushed and urgent and over too soon, but Liam’s kisses were still slow, deep, lazy. The wet slide of Liam’s palm against Harry’s cock was deliberate, every squeeze, every twist, intentional, as if Liam had nothing else to do but make Harry come.

Which he did.

There was no time for breakfast. By the time they had dressed, Paddy was ringing Liam to let him know he was outside.

Liam’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying and lack of sleep.

“I don’t know when... I’ve got studio time booked.”

Harry nodded. “’S alright. I don’t know about my schedule either.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam’s voice faltered. “About last night.”

“No, no. Liam, no. Never be sorry about coming to me.”

Liam rushed forward to envelop Harry in his arms and before Harry could respond, he was gone.

Things got crazy after that. Liam sent a message saying he was sorry, things were busy, he had meetings with producers, and, well, every other reason in the book, really. Harry acknowledged his message and said it was alright. This was par for the course. Even on hiatus, their time wasn’t their own.

The tabloids continued to print stories about Liam and the baby that was apparently due any minute and it made something ugly and hard rise up in Harry’s chest. He wanted to bring it up with Liam but didn’t know how, so he said nothing.

Then, Harry had some trips booked and Liam was in and out of London and L.A. and couldn’t tell where he would be next.

And little by little, the calls and messages, even the stupid SnapChats, dwindled away. For a while, Harry had tried to keep up his end of the bargain. And to be fair to Liam, so had he: sending Harry random selfies from the studio with messages like “ _Hard at work but missing you xx."_

But it hadn’t been enough.

Could Harry have done more to save them? Possibly. Could Liam have done more? Perhaps. But that was neither here nor there. Because it was now months later, and Harry wasn’t sure if there was anything left to save.

Remembering all of it now, Harry allowed himself a moment of self-pity as he poured a generous glass of wine to sip as he watched the Brits on the telly. He had just come out of the shower and was dressed in sweats and a comfy dressing gown.

“Some popstar, you are Styles,” he muttered as he settled on the couch, wineglass in hand, bag of crisps at the ready.

Had they been allowed to attend, had things gone according to plan, Harry thought, they would be all together now. Just like old times.

Except not quite.

Niall’s call and Louis’ message tonight were comforting. Even now, a year into the hiatus, things were more or less normal. Lads messaging each other laddy things. In contrast, Liam’s silence was deafening.

He was on his second—or was it his third?—glass of wine, when his ears perked up. Best British Video, this was the one they were up for. Harry grimaced at the sight of Simon.

“And the winner is…”

Harry leaned forward and his fingers tightened around his wineglass.

“I’m milking this…”

He rolled his eyes violently and threw the wine stopper at the telly. “Milk that, wanker.”

“One Direction!”

Harry whooped with joy and took a big, celebratory gulp of wine.

Which he immediately regretted, because he spat out most of it when the camera panned to—

“ _Liam?!"_  Harry yelped.

Because it was indeed.

There he was, looking like he just walked out of a nightclub, dressed in a—

“ _Hoodie?!_ ” Harry sputtered at the television.

Liam always got dressed up for the Brits. A hoodie and a leather jacket was not his typical awards show style.

Which meant that this was clearly a spur of the moment thing.

“Why...why…” Harry gesticulated at the television. “What?!”

He was sure he was hallucinating, but there Liam was, jogging up the steps to the stage, giving Simon an awkward, one-armed hug. Harry shuddered in sympathy.

He looked amazing. Liam’s hair had grown out, hinting at the natural curls Harry loved. He never told Liam that he’d nursed a crush on him as early as the “Gotta Be You” video. That back then, he desperately looked for any excuse to run his fingers through those curls. Onstage now, Liam looked tan and healthy, if a little on the thin side. Gone were the cheeks Harry loved, and he would feel a little sad, except that in their place was a jawline that...

Well.

Harry felt a warmth in his belly that he recognised as desire. There was nothing he wanted—no, needed—more at this moment than Liam.

Here. With him. Right now.

The wanting and wine made Harry bold. He reached for his phone and tapped out a message.

_Excuse me, Liam???_

He didn’t wait for a reply. It had been a while since Liam last made contact—and to be honest, since Harry had too. So, he didn’t harbour any hopes that Liam would respond to Harry’s pitiful attempt to be funny and cute and fine, okay, _flirty._

He tried to watch the rest of the show, but couldn’t keep his attention on it for very long. Harry stuck his hand into the bag of crisps and found nothing but crumbs. He groaned and hauled himself off the sofa to grab another bag from the kitchen, and—oh, why the hell not—another bottle of wine.

As he padded towards the sofa, his doorbell rang. He started horribly, which made him laugh.

“Idiot. Surprised by your own doorbell.”

He put the bottle and bag down on the coffee table and made his way to the door. It was probably the alcohol and the fat in the crisps that made him so slow-witted that he didn’t even wonder who could be at his door at this hour.

He looked through the peephole.

Liam Payne.

At his door, still in his hoodie and leather jacket, looking as good as he did on Harry’s flatscreen TV. Harry looked down at his sweats, monogrammed dressing gown, and granddad slippers and took a deep breath.

It really was a horrible day.

But, it was Liam. And even though Harry was fifty shades of humiliated, he was also happy to see him. It wasn’t like Liam hadn’t seen him in his dressing gown (or less) before.

So he opened the door.

“Liam Payne.”

Liam bit his lip and smiled, small and embarrassed. “I got your message.”

Harry turned around and walked to the sofa, gesturing at Liam to come in. “I assume you’ve come to explain yourself.”

Liam shut the door, shucked off his leather jacket and hung it up, before following Harry.

“I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take Simon accepting the award on our behalf and spouting lies about how we weren’t getting back together...”

Harry folded his legs underneath him and patted the seat next to him.

Liam settled in beside him, warm as always, even though he’d come from outside. He smelled faintly of soap and aftershave, and if Harry leaned in closer, he would probably smell a little smoke from the cigarettes Liam snuck in but always desperately tried to quit.

God, Harry wanted him.

“I’m glad you went. Way to stick it to the man,” Harry said, fist in the air.

Liam chuckled. “Yeah. Simon was...well. Awful. As always.”

Harry poked Liam in the arm. “What horrible things did he whisper in your ear?”

Liam waved his hand around. “Same old shit. We’d be sorry we didn’t sign with him, we shouldn’t get used to winning awards, because we’ll never get far without him. Whatever.”

Harry made a face. “Not get used to winning? What is he on about? We are _always_ winning. Besides,” he said airily, “I’m already used to it, so what is he going to do about that?”

Liam’s chuckle turned into a full-fledged laughing fit and Harry shook his shoulder. “Hey! What’s so funny?”

Liam struggled to regain his composure. “I’m just remembering Simon giving his speech after the lights had gone out. Nicole and I just looked at each other, like…” Liam made a bug-eyed, shocked face, which set them off again.

Harry couldn’t believe it. Here they were, sat on his sofa, and it was as if nothing had changed. As if the months of not speaking had just disappeared and they were back where they were before.

And yet, Harry wasn’t sure. Could people really go back? Was it ever really this easy?

Liam sighed leaned his head back against the sofa and shut his eyes. Up close, he looked a little more tired, a little less polished. Harry reached out to touch his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead, the way Liam once liked him to do. Liam sighed and leaned into Harry’s hand.

“I missed you.” Harry found himself saying, and though he inwardly berated himself for caving, he felt an odd sense of relief at being able to say this out loud. “Like...a lot. Massively. I know, you were busy. We both were. But, it was like you just disappeared.”

It was possibly the first time Harry had acknowledged his feelings and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. There was hurt, yes, but a little deeper down, there was anger too.

“What happened?” Harry asked. He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Oh wait, I forgot. A baby! That’s what happened. Right, Liam?”

“Harry...it’s a contract, you know this!” Liam was on his feet now, nervous, unable to keep still.

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything, because you won’t tell me. Don’t walk away. Look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t yours.”

Liam wheeled around to face him, anguish on his face. “You know it’s not.”

“Do I?”

“You should!”

“Well, I would if you said anything! Why didn’t you, Liam? You could have at least warned me this was going to happen.”

Liam began to pace as he spoke. “I tried...so many times...to talk to you, to tell you what was happening...but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I was ashamed!” Harry winced at Liam’s raised voice. “She...needed a man around and I was convenient. Stupid stunt, stupid contract that I couldn’t negotiate better terms to, couldn’t sweet talk myself out of. I wanted to say no, Harry. I would never have chosen this.”

A lot of what Liam said made sense, and Harry of all people understood what went on behind the scenes, the lies that were manufactured to sell a story.

But Harry wasn’t done yet.

“If you were going to have a baby, then you might as well just have gone and had it with Sophia.”

There it was. Harry had said it.

Because, when it all boiled down to it, maybe Harry had never quite gotten over Sophia.

Things between him and Liam only started after she was gone and Harry had been too dumb with love to ask Liam if this, Harry— _men_ —was really what he wanted.

Maybe Harry was just an experiment, a new experience, something to tick off a bucket list.

“Oh, Harry…” Liam’s voice was sad.

“What?”

“Sophia was a long time ago.”

“Not that long ago. And maybe...hell, what do I know, Liam? Maybe you were looking for something I couldn’t give you.”

The room went so still Harry could hear the uneven rhythm of his heart.

Then Liam spoke. “Do you really think that? That I would just change my mind?”

“Don’t know. You changed your mind before. It’s not like you ever really explained.”

Liam laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Explained what? Myself? Do you think I could ever actually do that? Half the time I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what the fuck I’m doing!”

“So, why’d you come here?” Harry challenged.

“Because I got your stupid message! And I read it and I was out of my head with missing you!”

Liam shook his head and dropped his arms to his sides, hands clenched into fists. His gaze was fixed on the floor.

 _He can’t even look me in the eye_ , Harry thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, cold, despite the warmth of his flat.

“And all I could think of was to come here.”

Harry looked up to find Liam’s eyes on him, the weight of his gaze as real as an embrace. As he looked at Harry, Liam’s fists relaxed and his shoulders drooped, all the fight drained out of him.

And Harry broke. “Then why are you standing so far away?” Here he was, finally in the same room with Liam and yet the space between them felt as wide as an ocean and everything about it was wrong.

Liam rushed forward to take Harry in his arms. His lips brushed over Harry’s temple and he nipped at his ear. “Kiss me,” Liam murmured. Harry traced a finger down Liam’s cheek and over his full bottom lip. He lifted his eyes to Liam and was overwhelmed by what he saw: the same want and desire that Harry felt, mirrored in Liam’s eyes. Harry moved to place a kiss on Liam’s cheek, but Liam turned his head at the last minute and captured Harry’s mouth with his. Liam tasted sweet, like the honey lozenges he sucked for his throat and Harry dipped his tongue into Liam’s mouth, chasing the taste.

When Liam pulled away, he held Harry close as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I hate this, you know? This story about me and... My mum’s been in tears every time I’ve talked to her. She knows it’s not true, but she can’t stand that I’m involved. And my, dad. Oh god, my dad.” Liam leaned back, his hands cupping Harry’s face. “How could I bring you into that mess?” Liam’s voice was tight and sad. “I always said, didn’t I? That it was our life? I couldn’t do that to us. I never wanted that for us.” Harry was silent and Liam went on. “I never _want_ that for us. For you.”

The knowledge that Liam was thinking of them now, in the present, made the anger melt out of Harry’s bones and he reached out to place a hand on Liam’s thigh.

“When we were planning to go to the Brits tonight...all of us...I knew I was going to try to talk to you. To make it right.” Liam’s voice was stronger now. “And when they told me it couldn’t happen. Well, I was angry.”

Harry nodded. “So was I.”

“And I didn’t know that I was going to show up at the ceremony, not until they told me they could just put me in a seat by the stage. I walked in there ten minutes before the award was announced” Liam said, the disbelief at what he did fresh in his voice. “But, I knew I needed to see you. So, when your message came in, I just...I left.” Liam shrugged.

Harry gaped at him. “You didn’t go back to your seat? Or go to the afterparty?”

“Came straight here.”

The warm feeling in Harry’s belly was back and he suddenly felt heavy and languid, possibly from the wine, but also from the way Liam looked at him. Or perhaps from the way Liam’s hands tugged at his dressing gown and toyed with the hem of his shirt. Liam’s fingers brushed against his waist and Harry inhaled sharply. Liam took that as an invitation to pull him closer, until Harry was practically sitting in his lap.

This was everything Harry had missed, had ached for, all these months past: Liam underneath him, Liam’s eyes drinking him in, Liam’s hands on his chest. Overwhelmed, Harry tore his mouth from Liam’s and buried his head in the crook of Liam’s neck. He tried to take a breath but it came out sounding like a sob.

“Harry?” Liam’s voice was husky with desire, but full of concern and that just made Harry hold him even tighter.

Patient hands untwined Harry’s arms from Liam’s neck and Liam held Harry away from him. Liam ducked his head to look into his eyes.

“Harry? Do you...Are you...” Liam gently patted Harry’s hair back into place.

Harry sank against Liam and nuzzled his face against Liam’s neck.

Liam whined at the contact and pawed at Harry’s shirt, then took a deep breath and stilled his hands. “We probably shouldn’t.” Resignedly, he smoothed his hands over the fabric.

“I know we shouldn’t,” Harry said. “You don’t want to do something you might regret.” His voice was sharp.

“Hey,” Liam lifted Harry’s chin with a finger. “I never regretted anything with you, Harry. The only thing I regret is...bollixing it up.” Harry choked out a laugh and Liam went on. “I missed you so much, and if I had my head on straight I would have known what to do. I wouldn’t have hurt you like this.”

Harry took a deep breath and prayed his voice wouldn’t tremble. “Sometimes I’m so scared that I’m not what you want.”

“Why don’t you let me make that decision?” Liam said, his voice so certain, so steady, so very _Liam_ , that it made the hard knot in Harry’s chest unravel.

“But you wanted something different before,” Harry said. He knew he sounded petulant and childish, but he didn’t care.

“Oh, Harry,” Liam murmured. “I didn’t know what I was doing before you. It was like nothing made sense before. You know?”

Liam’s face was honest and hopeful, and so, so lovely, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Tell me,” Harry whispered. He pulled Liam’s sweatshirt up so he could put his hands on his bare skin, warm under his fingers.

“I always felt like I had to be a certain way for people. Media training, and styling...”

Harry nodded. He knew how that felt. He tugged at Liam’s belt loops, greedy. Harry pressed his chest against Liam and sucked gently at Liam’s birthmark. Liam gasped sharply and his hands slipped down to cup Harry’s arse.

“But, I never felt that way around you. Like, I could just be me. And that would be okay.”

“It is okay,” Harry echoed.

“I want that feeling back.”

Harry lifted his head from Liam’s neck and pressed his lips to Liam’s again. Harry opened his mouth to Liam’s tongue and whined a little, overcome with the warmth of Liam all around him. Harry combed his fingers through his hair, slid his palms down the back of his neck, and over his shoulders, and dug his fingers into Liam’s biceps. He knew Liam could feel the hard line of his cock through his joggers, but he didn’t care, because when he rocked his hips down to properly straddle Liam’s hips, Harry found he was hard as well. A desperate sound escaped Liam’s lips as he shifted underneath Harry, driving his hips up as his strong hands pressed Harry against him.

Harry sighed happily when Liam gripped Harry’s thighs. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe the timing was perfect. Harry didn’t know. He only knew how Liam made him feel. How he wanted to make Liam feel. Harry rubbed himself against Liam, seeking any friction he could find, wanting more.

“Don’t leave.” Harry cupped Liam’s face in his hands. “Stay. With me.”

Liam nodded, craned his neck up to kiss him again as he moved restlessly beneath Harry. Harry reached between them, his hands making quick work of Liam’s belt and buttons. He slipped one hand down Liam’s pants and curled his fingers around Liam’s cock in a loose grip. Liam cursed softly under his breath and thrust into Harry’s hand. Harry stroked him, slow and lazy, as they kissed, his other hand on Liam’s neck, thumb resting lightly on his throat. Liam shook his head and gently pressed Harry away.

“Harry, Harry stop…” Liam’s breathing was ragged. “It’s too much. You’ll make me come.”

Harry stroked Liam’s cheek and marvelled at him. On that stage, Liam had been exactly what Simon had trained them all to be: a star. Smooth. Savvy. Here, alone with Harry, up close, he was the Liam Harry loved best. Warm. Kind. Sweet.

In that moment, Harry decided on what he wanted. If there were never going to be another time, then he wanted to make the most of it. And if this were the first of other times? Then, Harry would look gladly forward to the future.

Harry slid down Liam’s body until he was on his knees in front of him.

Liam’s eyes widened. “What...Harry? Are you sure?”

Harry nodded as he pulled down Liam’s pants. “We won tonight. We should celebrate,” he said, taking Liam firmly in his hand.

Liam’s soft laugh turned into a moan, a sound that made Harry weak. He bent to lick at the head of Liam’s cock, swirling his tongue at the tip, the way Liam liked. Harry lightly ran his teeth down Liam’s shaft, gratified by the way Liam’s hips jerked at the stimulation. Liam looked down at him and put his hand on Harry’s cheek. Harry closed his eyes, relaxed his jaw and took Liam in his mouth, the hoarse sound of Liam chanting his name in his ears.

Simon could keep his awards.

All Harry needed was right here: a beautiful boy, with a heart so big he couldn’t let someone else take credit for what they did together, for what the fans had done for them.

Maybe Harry still wanted the lights and cameras, and the music and the audiences. But right now?

He just wanted Liam.

Harry spread his palms on Liam’s thighs, feeling the rhythmic contraction of Liam’s muscles under his hands. Then Liam’s hand was cupping the back of his neck and he was leaning towards Harry, bowing over him.

“Harry, I…” Liam stuttered and his hand gripped at the hair that had just started growing out on Harry’s nape. It should have been painful, except it wasn’t at all. Harry’s hands reached around Liam, hands on his hips to hold him down. Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes and his knees were killing him, but this was Liam: gasping above him, heavy in his mouth, hands in his hair, and Harry could not think of anything he wanted more. Harry slid one hand down the front of his joggers and pressed down on his cock to give himself some relief. He moaned a little and Liam tightened his grip on Harry’s hair. Harry relaxed his throat to take Liam even further and he felt Liam’s legs tense up and knew he was close. Harry heard him cry out, something wordless and inarticulate, then closed his eyes as Liam came, warm and thick on his tongue.

Harry swallowed and pulled off Liam’s dick, and rose up on his knees. Liam leaned forward to rest his hot forehead against Harry’s.

“Harry…” Liam breathed, his voice shaky. Harry pressed a kiss to Liam’s lips and gently pushed Liam back. He ducked his head to kiss all the way up Liam’s firm belly and chest. Finally, Harry tugged Liam’s shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder.

Liam looked hazy and satisfied and Harry was dizzy with the knowledge that he was responsible.

_Mine, mine, mine._

The warm feeling in Harry’s belly, that hunger, hadn’t gone away. It had only grown, if that were even possible. But, it wasn’t just want that he felt, as he looked at Liam now, lying back on the sofa, with his ruffled hair and warm eyes. Harry’s heart felt too big for his chest, too full of love. But it also ached a little, with the knowledge that nothing was certain. Harry couldn’t possibly tell what would happen with them, tomorrow, a week from now, a year.

But he could hope. And maybe that was enough.

Liam smiled, tiredly, as he caressed Harry’s neck.

“Your ridiculous hair is now even more ridiculous,” he murmured.

“You love it,” Harry scoffed.

Liam’s eyes glowed with remembering. “I love you.”

Harry stood up and took Liam’s hand. He pulled him up off the sofa and pressed his entire body against Liam’s, his dick hot and hard against Liam’s thigh.

“Show me.”


End file.
